Archive for June, 2010

Snowchild II

June 30, 2010

So at the very beginning of this blog, nearly seven months ago, I began at the beginning as many writers do, the beginnings of my self, or at least the self that inhabits this earthly vessel of present time. I talked about the conditions of my birth, the legends and life-long stories passed down to me about the situations the circumstances, the events that coincide with the date of my birth, the destiny set into motion on the day that the snow raged in a little Vermont town. I told you all of this, and more. I spoke of pain and suffering and loss, as well as the end of an era, life as a college graduate, facing the world as myself after years of trying to run, hating my job just as much if not more than I hated being jobless, and shared a few quirky poems and stories as well as music and movie reviews in between it all. So this long into my blogging journey, even though it be somewhat erratic and very meandering in scope, I will rein it in as I bring myself back to that place where I started for this entry.

I heard news of great portent in recent days. And I know, when something is portentuous they usually apply it to the farthest negative extreme or the farthest positive extreme, but seeing as I don’t know yet which it will be, I merely describe it as portentuous in a very general sense, as no other word can describe how much of a big deal this can be.

The news was this: My brother told me that him and his wife were going to have another little bundle that is apparently due in December. December means a few big holidays for multiple religions, my birthday, as well as the anniversary of my Grandfather’s death. In recent years, it has been no secret that my family has been a little bit, or maybe a lot of bit out of sorts, what with children being born, people dying, people getting divorced, graduating from college, you name it.  The news of this child’s coming birth stirred something within me, as if this child is the next evolution for the family, for human existence itself.  If the child is born on my birthday or the day of my pop’s death anniversary, there is great significance in that, also calls to mind the Christian’s worlds beloved nativity story.  There are great things in store, I think I’ll just sit back and ride through it.

Mart Watch

June 15, 2010

The words: “I hate my job” have become like a mantra to me in recent days, as any of you, my dear readers can see first hand.  I actually apologize for seeming a little less interesting lately because of this.  One of you may come up to me, at least in the digital sense and be like: “You know what heckhound, you’re kind of a hypocrite!  You always tell us to break the sky, construct our own realities, defy all boundaries and stereotypes set up against us, yet you have so easily resigned yourself to the drudgery.”  And I am here in this entry to explain, I do know why it means something to be a working class hero, I do know that this so-called “real world” is as bright or as dismal as I am inclined to make it.  I’ve just been having such a hard time lately juggling all my social engagements as well as those anti-social engagements.  With this underpaying, unappreciating “career”,  I have often complained on here, or to friends out in the physical realms about injustices in our workplaces, but all I have seemed to do about it was complain and bemoan my existence, but not anymore.  Heckhound is back on top, and taking names, ready to retaliate at a moment’s notice wherever it is warranted.  Besides that, I have found new ways to have fun at work by combining my dead moments with some favorite out of work activities.  One of these is people watching.  I always seem to talk about how many people don’t seem to have lives outside of their jobs, but the way they act at their jobs reveals their individuality.  As the outsider of this company, never having bought into any of their lies, I can more easily extricate myself from these people and see them as a third party.  We have a store manager with a near romantic relationship with his motorcycle, and a terrifying amount of machismo, but recent observations have shown me that he cares a little more than he outwardly lets on.  There’s an assistant manager who is never in a good mood and loves to give out death glares by the bushel full, but will break out into song without warning. His favorite seems to be Ain’t Too Proud to Beg.  There are others, the most surprising being a seemingly kind-hearted older woman who is racially bigoted, and the least surprising being some overly pretentious kid who is not much more than he seems.  There are all kinds employed at this store, and although some of my observations may shock or appall me the longer I watch, the more individuals I notice, the more relieved I am about the future.

Youth is the Engine of The World

June 3, 2010

My creativity is at an all time low, and my thought patterns have become so erratic. Being bogged down in drudgery was the thing I was most afraid of as I, heckhound went off in search of adventures in the world, complaining for months about not having a job, being done with school and not getting enough of my friends. I started this blog to keep my creative juices flowing. And sure I have plenty to talk about other than work. I’m running through the corridors of new love, and have an even greater incentive to adventure than I did before. I fill all my non-worked hours with everything I don’t get to do during the day, I read books, I play video games, watch lots of movies, draw pictures, whatever I am compelled to do. I went to The Rocky Horror Show last week with some really awesome friends, which reinvigorated my passion for breaking away from my so-called limitations, along with a few night-time philosophy sessions with some friends, and a desire to better my life, and the life of the one I love, so that we are more than just blue shirts, and ugly name tags. We were not born for this half-life, we were born for the full turkey, not just the giblets, we were born to LIVE!!! I will not hesitate to break away from my nightmare job if adventure rears its head. I will run towards it no matter what they say. If I’m young I want to feel like it.

Somewhere(prose poem)

June 1, 2010

I opened my feet to the possibility of running from the second I could first walk.  I knew I was made for something truly great, somewhere else.  I took my first real family vacation when I was about six years old, relieved to finally be somewhere else, but only briefly.  Since I was there, I was no longer somewhere else.  I was probably missing something fascinating happening back home, which was now somewhere else.  I begged and begged my parents to end the vacation early but of course they wouldn’t.  “Can you be happy anywhere?”  They would always ask me.  When I got older, obviously I decided to go to college somewhere far away, it being anywhere but here.   As you could imagine, I never lasted more than a semester at any one institution of higher education.  The credits had trouble transferring over most of the time, so I found myself acquiring a 4 year degree in about 20.  by then, I had nowhere left to run that I could consider somewhere else.  So with my degree in Political Science under my belt, I set out to become a dictator, knowing I could rename everything as I saw fit and thereby making everywhere I had already been somewhere else.  I started by holding up a bar, and in exchange for sparing the lives of the owners and the bartender they gave me the title deed.  I hit up a few more small businesses, renaming as I went, until less than a week later, when the cops caught up with me.   In my cold cell, I discovered somewhere else I had never been: nowhere.  There is nothing to distinguish one prison cell from another, and it is always changing, whether your roommate dies, or makes parole or whatever else might happen.  When they turn out all the lights the room becomes an entirely different entity. Prolonged exposure to the conditions changes your psyche and makes it so the tiniest thing can be brand new, and the fact that you can’t keep track of the passing of time makes it more bearable than anywhere else I had ever been.  Having found myself somewhere that isn’t here, I have finally found my niche, and plan on causing more trouble to prolong my stay indefinitely.

Register 6(66) a poem

June 1, 2010

They assigned me to register 6.

I would feel the inclination to add two more,

Yet I know even in his wildest dreams

Satan himself couldn’t come up with the fascist mechanism of this store.

I am positioned by the exit door.

The light coming through the window calls me to escape and make merry,

Taunting me and my unrequited human needs.

But my paycheck is nothing in the grand scheme,

Maybe I should seek the redemption promised by the sun.

666, I am unable to rebel.

Who here has any of my interests at heart?

Revise the world, tearing down the wall

Of classless illusions, blue shirts and khakis.

Create in its place a window ROYGBIV would be jealous of.